An unapologetic marching band against the forces of darkness!

Taking This Book-Week Facebook Game to the Extreme

Did you all see that Book Week game thing that’s been going around on Facebook? (What is Book Week anyway?) I evidently jumped on the bandwagon, because below is my contribution to the game (and you’ll notice I have masterfully blurred the names to protect the innocent). You’ll also notice that a game emerged…

Well, if you read those comments, you can see what happened. In this post, I present to you the fruits of our labour: a crazy story that makes no sense, made up of 33 sentences from all kinds of books.

I dedicate this whole thing to William S. Burroughs, because that crazy dude would have loved this sh—.

Without further ado:

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Mama’s Contemporary Decay

by Chloë Filson and Pat Crosby, kind of

Visible speech diagrams and voiceprints have confirmed that these actually are recorded voices.

“God forbid it, Lord!” he said, “That must never happen to you!” After the death of the Duke of Kent, she declared she stood, with her daughter, ‘friendless and alone, in a country that was not her own’.

“Is that really what it says?” asked Sri. His hair, according to the ancient custom of the Persian nobility, flowed to His shoulders. “Well, when I took my sheep through the fields some of them might have died if we had come upon a snake.”

“In the first place,” said the Rector, looking rather grave, “it would be nonsensical to expect that I could convince Brooke, and make him act accordingly.” At the end of these two years he had become able to walk and help himself a little, though unable to provide for his own necessities.

She unwittingly licked her lips, although he did not believe it was from fear.

People might want to write down in their journals any new thoughts about their timeline progression during the next week. This was one of the hardest times in my life. Any doubts, ask for help.

She is the creation of something else altogether.

The paths are paralleled with and perpendiculared by wood and wire fences that hold cows, and sometimes sheep, and all this is minutes away, all there, from our house, our house behind which there’s even a hiking trail that reaches, just about reaches, the huge rock.

Mama and I were both in the kitchen, much cosier there than the dining room, and though still not out of her dressing gown, Mama was eating a third slice of toast, her appetite returned at last. Along with a few Egyptian pounds my mother had saved, we had enough to buy another house.

“Sorry,” said Mr. Zik.

Answer: Roasted Garlic!

There is another kind of pleasure that arises neither from our receiving what the body requires, nor its being relieved when overcharged, and yet by a secret, unseen virtue affects the senses, raises the passions, and strikes the mind with generous impressions; this is the pleasure that arises from music.

If you have any questions about how to use this service, check out the FAQs link under the title. That’s always been my way. Brush alternate thumbs down and outward, with a light strike. He laughed, stroking her thick hair.

Serve steak with peppers and onions.

They reason that a triangular or pentagonal room is inconceivable. Organic chemists have synthesized molecules that behave like motors, molecules that mimic nature’s process in bioengineering, and others that hold promise for new molecular devices in computing. This image makes it easy to comprehend the social bases of the contemporary decay of the aura.

Depending on the enzyme, the co-factor may be an ion of a metal element such as copper or iron,r an organic molecule needed to assist the reaction in some particular way. Certainly, others were interested in the synthesis of RNA; but they were split in interminably argumentative factions, bickering among themselves about their favoured hypotheses.

I think old Nick put those marks on her neck. At that moment the bottom fell out of Arthur’s mind.

Describe the clinical presentation of a child with non-perforated appendicitis and with perforated appendicitis. Andy grinned.

The End.

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Here is a fun addendum: during the game, Pat discovered that his copy (mass-market paperback version) of Margaret Atwood’s A Handmaid’s Tale had no page 52! It wasn’t missing any text—just a page number. We have photo evidence of the pagination fail: